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Feeling Gravity’s Pull

So today was the first time in week that I wasn’t out in public as a woman at least part of the day, and I’ll be so again tomorrow night and during the weekend.

Admittedly, it’s atypical circumstances. I was at the Burlesque Hall of Fame Weekend, Thursday through Monday, had a get together on Tuesday, and a show on Wednesday (with another tomorrow night), and another munch on Saturday where I go as a woman.

But it’s interesting to see how over the weekend how routine it became in the morning. Get up, do shave arms and legs in addition to face, put on make-up.

In Vegas my burly family treated me as if I was a woman — even when the desert dryness and all the second-hand smoke in the casino (where BHOF was at) had me sounding like a hoarse Bea Arthur. Though there were a few instances of trans objectification from some of the women — the exotic, unicorn kind of thing. Well meant, but still a bit othering.

As usual out in public I didn’t attract any particular attention; I’m sure there was probably the occasional stare, but nothing that set up my threat-dar. Then again it was Vegas an a trans woman in a sparkly dress is far from the weirdest sight walking around the casino.

OTOH, what’s also notable is that I didn’t have a “pink crash” on Tuesday when I had to go to work in guy-mode. There was a bit of the “glitter crash” that a lot of people get — similar to the sort of “con crashes” that happen to attendees of other conventions, where you’re amped up for a couple days, and fairly sleep-deprived by the end of them.

But there wasn’t a sense of dread of having to go to work as guy-mode. Would I have rather have gone to work as a woman? Yeah, I would’ve. But I was OK with going as a man, even if it didn’t thrill me.

So, as I think I’ve said before, there’s a pull toward the feminine — but there’s not a push away from the masculine. Which is one reason I don’t just go ahead and transition.